


First Steps

by prepare4trouble



Series: Little By Little [3]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blind Kanan Jarrus, Ezra keeping secrets, Ezra needs a hug, Gen, He's not gonna like what he finds out, Kanan is starting to suspect what they might be, Secrets, Visually Impaired Ezra Bridger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prepare4trouble/pseuds/prepare4trouble
Summary: Kanan had known for months that something was bothering Ezra, but he had never, not in his wildest imaginings, thought it could bethat.





	1. Chapter 1

"I think I'm in love."

"What did I tell you? Isn't she the most beautiful thing you ever saw?"

Kanan sensed the sharp jerk of Ezra's head as he looked up and around, searching for the object of the pilots' affections. He would have found the area disappointingly empty; apart from the three pilots standing a short distance away, himself, and Ezra, the only other being nearby was a small service droid busily unloading supplies.

Actually... he concentrated a little further in the droid’s direction. No, it was positioned too far behind the pallet it was unloading, Ezra probably wouldn’t be able to see it.

Ezra craned his neck to look behind him, before giving up.

"I think they were talking about a ship," Kanan told him, with a nudge.

"Sure, of course. I knew that."

Kanan rolled his eyes without thinking. It was a habit that weeks in bandages hadn’t been able to break, and he knew it wasn’t as effective now, and especially not with his mask in place, but he didn’t really care. "Of course you did."

Ezra slowed to a stop and regarded a small spacecraft nearby with interest. "It's nothing special," he reported back, "just that new thing that other crew stole yesterday."

Kanan nodded.

“Looks pretty standard, to be honest."

Kanan sensed that Ezra's comments had attracted the attention of one of the pilots, one of the two that Sabine had helped to liberate from the Imperial training academy. "You're kidding right?" he called across.

Ezra let out a chuckle and took a few steps closer. Kanan hesitated, before following him. They had been on their way to do some lightsaber training, and with how distracted Ezra had been lately, he half expected that if they split up, Ezra might forget. "It looks kinda cramped in there too," Ezra said, directing a conversational tone at Kanan. “I mean, it’s a one-man ship, but it’d have to be a pretty short man.”

“Kinda like yourself?” another of the pilots asked jokingly.

Kanan felt a spike of irritation from Ezra. He was wearing his emotions close to the surface today. They had had a lesson on blocking, and he didn’t want to imply that it was a thing Ezra should feel the need to do all the time, but he might need a little more practice. It was a useful skill, especially when coming up against dark side users who might use his emotions against him.

“It’s actually not as tight as it looks,” the first pilot, Hobbie, said. “But the size is part of the beauty of the thing, and the shape. It’s aerodynamic in a way most fighters aren’t. They’re designed mostly for space, so when you come into an atmosphere, you run into trouble. With this model, that doesn’t happen.”

“Plus, just look at her,” the second pilot said. “She’s a thing of beauty.”

Ezra shrugged. Or, Kanan assumed he shrugged, he heard it in his voice. “It’s a ship,” he said. “I mean, I get that you guys are really into this stuff, but all I see is another fighter.”

“Seriously? Are you _blind_? You can’t see the…” She broke off suddenly as she realized what she had said. Or more specifically, who else had been around when she had said it. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean…”

Kanan didn’t respond to the mumbled apology. He barely heard it over the sudden spike of emotion from Ezra. Panic, terror, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Kanan nearly gasped, and instinctively threw up his own shields defensively, but before he could do that, it was over; stopped just as abruptly as it had started. 

So, Ezra did remember how to block after all.

“But seriously,” the pilot continued, addressing Ezra again now. “If this thing doesn’t stir something in you, there’s something wrong.”

“Ha,” Ezra said. He sounded completely normal, as though nothing had happened. “Well, I guess there’s something wrong. With _you guys_!” 

Kanan’s mind raced. Had he imagined Ezra’s reaction? A person surely couldn’t feel that intensity of panic, fear, and emotional pain without giving _some_ sign of it. Or rather, some people probably could, but Ezra? But it had been real, he was sure of that. What had triggered it?

“C’mon,” Hobbie said to his two friends, “we don’t want to be late for that briefing, or they’ll never let us take this thing out.” The three pilots walked away, leaving Ezra and Kanan standing by the ship.

It had been the pilot’s question. ‘Are you blind?’ It had lasted only a few seconds, and by the time of her mumbled apology, it was over. Had it been some kind of reaction on Kanan’s behalf? No, that didn’t make sense; it was a figure of speech, and people used similar ones all the time without Ezra overreacting. Besides, that idea just didn’t feel right. It had been personal, somehow. Not related to Kanan, or to anybody else.

He turned to face Ezra. “You okay?” he asked.

“Sure, they’re friends of mine, that’s just how we talk to each other.”

That hadn’t been what he had meant, but Ezra wasn’t to know that. “Come on,” he said. “I want to get a couple hours practice in before the briefing.”

He turned and walked away, Ezra following close behind him. As he walked, he mulled over the conversation, and the reaction. It didn’t make any sense. Unless, of course, it did. The mistakes Ezra had been making recently, the ones that Kanan had chalked up to being distracted or tired. Ezra had mentioned once, maybe a year or so ago, that he had been told he needed corrective lenses. He had never gotten them, and if the problem had gotten worse, it could account for at least some of the strange behavior Kanan had noticed recently.

But that intensity, it couldn’t just be that. There had to be something more.

“Ezra?” he asked. “Nothing to do with appreciating spacecraft, but is there anything… have you had your eyes checked recently?”

Again, that sharp burst of emotion. Panic, dread, a terror so deep that Kanan almost gasped. And then, once again, it was gone. “Yeah, they’re fine. Perfect.” The answer came too quickly. Too smoothly; and entirely too casually for someone dealing with that debilitating cocktail of emotion. It had been rehearsed, and rehearsed well. It was also a lie, because Kanan knew for a fact that Ezra needed lenses.

The whole thing was starting to add up to a conclusion that he didn’t like one bit.

“Um, so, Kanan, I just remembered, I promised Zeb I’d help him with something. Can we do the practice thing later?” Ezra didn’t bother to wait for a response. Kanan wasn’t sure he would have been capable of giving one even if he had. He stood very still, feet almost rooted to the spot as Ezra turned and walked, slowly and calmly, back in the direction of the Ghost.

He kept up that leisurely, unconcerned pace until he was out of what would have been Kanan’s line of sight, if he still had such a thing. As soon as he turned a corner, Ezra leapt into a full sprint and didn’t stop until Kanan had lost track of him amongst the other base personnel.

Still, he stood there, mind racing. He had known there was something bothering Ezra for quite some time, he had tried and failed over and over again to guess what the problem might be, or to try to pry the information from him, but all to no avail. He had known there was something, but he had never, not in his wildest imaginings, thought it could be _that_.

It wasn’t that. He was leaping to conclusions, assuming worst case scenarios. It wasn’t like Ezra was going blind, or anything. Right?

Only, if that were the case, a lot of things would start to make a lot more sense.

He shook his head, as though he could dismiss the thought, then forced himself to move, putting one foot in front of the other until he reached one of his favorite meditation spots, where he sank to the ground and tried to block out the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan tries to (dis)prove a theory.

“There you are,” Kanan announced as he walked into the lounge room to find Ezra slouched at the table. Well, actually he had no idea about Ezra’s posture, and he had known where he was for quite some time, but Ezra didn’t need to know that.

Ezra didn’t reply immediately. The seat underneath him creaked slightly as he altered his position. Getting rid of that slouch, maybe? He shuffled out of the chair and got to his feet. “Hey, Kanan,” he said. “I was just… uh…”

“Coming to meet me for practice?” Kanan suggested.

Ezra had been unusually quiet for the past couple of days, and although he hadn’t been actively avoiding Kanan, he had displayed a definite tendency to not happen to be wherever he was. After running out on the way to their last training session, Kanan had been unable to get him to stand still for long enough to arrange another one.

“Actually, I was going to offer to help Hera with some repairs,” he said. “But I haven’t said anything yet, so I guess I could get away with not doing it.”

“I’m sure Hera can handle things,” Kanan said. He made a beckoning gesture with one hand. “Come on, we’ve fallen behind on a few things.”

Ezra made an audible sigh, but followed Kanan out of the room without complaint. His elbow made a noticeable bang as it hit the doorframe on the way out, but that wasn’t anything to be concerned about. Happened all the time.

Although, perhaps that meant it _was_ something to be concerned about. He didn’t know when he had first noticed it, whether it had been happening the whole time he had known Ezra, or whether it had gotten worse recently. Probably nothing. Everybody did that on occasion.

As they walked, Chopper passed them, and Kanan noticed a pause in Ezra’s steps. He stood and waited for the droid to pass, then, once he was a short distance away, jogged a few steps to catch up. “What’s that about?” Kanan asked, keeping his tone as casual as possible.

“What?” Ezra asked.

Kanan shook his head. Whatever disagreement was clearly still going on between the two of them, now wasn’t the time to push it. “Never mind,” he said, and led Ezra to the cargo bay.

****

Unsurprisingly, it was more difficult to keep an eye out for odd behavior when your eyes don’t actually work. Listening out for certain things just didn’t work quite as well, and enlisting the help of others would open Kanan up to completely justified questions for which he had no answer. And so he was stuck with a horrible hypothesis and no way to disprove it.

He had noticed nothing unusual in their last lightsaber session, and nothing so far in the Force training that had followed. That was a good sign. Especially in the lightsaber training; it was there that he had noticed the majority of the recent mistakes. Maybe he had been right the first time and Ezra had been distracted by something, maybe whatever that something was, it had been resolved, and things would be able to continue as normal.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for now,” he said, “put them down.”

Ezra took a deep breath and carefully lowered the eight objects surrounding him down to the ground. He did so gently, slowing their descent as they approached the floor and depositing them in a loose circle around him without any sound at all. Kanan nodded; Ezra’s fine control was getting better. Not long ago, he would have simply dropped them to the floor, not because he didn’t want to be careful, but because controlling so many objects at a time was difficult.

“Maybe next time we’ll try moving them in different directions,” he suggested. “There was one Master at the temple that could make fifty tiny objects dance in the air. He used to do it to entertain the younglings on celebration days.”

“No offense, Kanan, but I’m not exactly looking to get into a career as a children's entertainer.”

Kanan shook his head. “Just because it could be used in that way doesn’t mean he couldn't do other things with it as well. It’s about fine control, and that’s useful for all kinds of things. It’s one thing to be able to throw an enemy across the room, but it’s quite another to be able to pick a mechanical lock. Both are useful skills, in the right context.”

Ezra considered that. “Fine, but don’t expect me to put on any puppet shows.”

Kanan smiled. “There were no puppets involved,” he said. “But actually, that’s not a bad idea either; moving all the individual parts in a realistic way. We’d have to get hold of some, and I’m not going to go out of my way, but if a couple fall into our laps, why not?”

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” Ezra said.

Things were starting to feel normal again. It was good. “It’s surprisingly easy, and fun.”

“Great.” He was sure Ezra was scowling at him, but he appeared to be enjoying it a little bit too. “Well, I’m going to go get something to eat before Chopper decides to mess with it again. You coming?”

Without waiting for a reply, Ezra turned to his left and headed for the door. As he walked out of the circle of random objects surrounding him, his foot caught one of them, a small toolbox. The tools inside clattered loudly under the impact, and Ezra managed to stop himself before he hit the ground.

Kanan was at his side in an instant, showing too much concern for a simple trip, he knew. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Ezra kicked the box angrily, then used the Force to continue its forward motion until it hit the wall at the other side of the room with a loud bang. “I guess that’s the universe’s way of telling me I should clear up my mess before I eat, huh?”

****

The briefing had been, appropriately, brief, and as the crew and the couple of other base personnel gathered around to listen began to disperse, Kanan noticed that Ezra was still there, standing by the holotable as though examining it. It was, Kanan was reasonably sure, switched off.

There was an unpleasant chill in the air, the kind that descended onto the base an hour or so after sunset, when the sun’s heat began to drain out of the ground and the rocks surrounding Chopper Base. “Problem with the plan?” Kanan asked, moving a little closer.

“No, I just… no,” Ezra said. “Sounds like a good, solid plan.”

He heard Chopper approach, and Kanan sensed Ezra stiffen. There was a sudden, muted clicking noise, and Ezra relaxed again.

“Thanks, Chop,” Ezra muttered. He sighed, and pushed back from the holotable, walking in the direction of the Ghost. Chopper traveled alongside him, keeping pace with him until they reached the ship, as which point Chopper abruptly changed direction. The quiet clicking noise sounded again, and the droid left Ezra to climb the ramp himself, while he went to find his entertainment elsewhere.

Kanan observed, puzzled. Whatever was going on there was unrelated to the apparent prank war that had, without his notice, sprung up between the two of them recently. Hera had described it to him, and the whole thing was frankly baffling. It had come from nowhere, as though out of the blue, Chopper had suddenly decided it was hilarious to get underfoot. But not tonight, apparently. Tonight he was there to keep Ezra company on his trip back to the Ghost.

****

Hera growled to herself in frustration as she crouched underneath the control panel, trying, and apparently failing, to make the adjustments she needed. Kanan sat in the copilot’s seat, feeling useless.

“Want me to go get Sabine or someone to…”

“No,” she said, sounding vaguely exhausted. “I can do it myself, I just can’t quite… You don’t happen to have a flashlight, do you?”

“Not something I tend to have much use for anymore.”

“Right.” She sighed. “Sorry, not thinking.” She turned her head to look at Chopper. “Chopper, could you?”

The droid moved from his position at the other side of the room, eased in between Kanan on the seat, and Hera on the ground, and made that same clicking noise again. The one that he had made the night before, with Ezra.

“Hera, what did he just do?” Kanan asked.

“Nothing. Just shone a light on the wiring for me. Why?”

Kanan shook his head. “No reason.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to go find something I can actually do, okay? Not that I don’t enjoy keeping you company while you work, but…”

She didn’t respond, too involved in what she was doing to notice him anymore. Kanan edged around the front of the seat and out of the door, leaving her to her work. She could be busy there for hours anyway, she probably wasn’t going to miss him.

****

It had been dark. Well, of course it had been dark, it was nighttime. He had been thinking in terms of temperature, already half-forgetting that for everybody else, the onset of night meant darkness. Chopper had switched on his flashlight to light Ezra’s way, to show him back to the Ghost.

Whatever it was that was going on, and he still wasn’t going to go so far as to actually think it in words, Chopper knew. He knew, and he was taking advantage in order to trip Ezra just for fun. He was also helping him out, all the while quietly not mentioning it to anybody else. Had Ezra _told_ him? Had he worked it out?

Or was the situation all in Kanan’s head and he was imagining things, letting his mind run away with him to a worse case scenario.

He needed to investigate further.

****

“I thought we’d try something different tonight.”

“Oh?” Ezra hesitated, lightsaber still in his hand. “Not fighting practice?”

Kanan shook his head. “Oh, we’re still doing that. I was just thinking we’d do it outside. Get a bit of fresh air.” He deliberately kept his tone as casual as he could muster, but he still heard the tension in his own voice; there was no way that Ezra didn’t pick up on it.

“Sure, sounds good.” Ezra didn’t miss a beat, there was no flicker of anything from him, nothing given away in his voice, or in his emotions communicated through the Force.

“Okay then.” Kanan pressed the button to open the hatch and stepped outside. Ezra followed closely behind him, still no hesitation, no apparent concern whatsoever.

Kanan realized that at some point over the course of the past few hours, preparing for this conversation, he had performed some kind of mental switch, from trying to prove his theory wrong, to trying to prove it right. That didn't mean he wanted it to be right, just that some part of his brain had already accepted it as truth. He still wasn’t going to say it. Not even inside his own head.

The door closed behind them, and Ezra paused, just for a split second before following Kanan out into the desert, beyond the main structures of the base, but still inside the beacon perimeter.

Kanan tried to pay attention to the footsteps behind him, but it was difficult. Were there any differences in the way that Ezra was walking? Did his feet shuffle hesitantly on the ground the way he knew that his had? Was he trying to keep his steps even, all the while convinced that the next one would hit some dip or bump in the ground and send him toppling to the floor? Was he holding one hand just ahead of him as he walked, knowing that the chances of finding something that way were low, but unable to stop himself anyway?

Kanan’s head spun. He didn’t know the answers to these questions. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know.

Was he, perhaps, completely fine? If a little baffled as to Kanan’s sudden desire to train outside in the cold.

The trouble was, he didn’t know how light it was here. The base was illuminated, obviously, but he knew that only because it made sense. The last time he had seen the place, they had barely finished unloading the supplies for setting it up. He didn’t know what lights they had where, and even if he asked somebody, any description of the light level would be very subjective. No, he was just going to have to work this out for himself.

“Let’s start with some basic katas,” he suggested, activating his blade and waiting for Ezra to do the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Kanan was a pessimist.

He hadn’t always been that way, as a youngling at the Temple he had been very different. Of course, he had been a different person then.

Circumstance and experience had conspired to change his outlook dramatically, and now it was difficult to see the good side. Especially given, well…

But that was something that he recognized about himself, and although it was not something that he particularly wanted to change -- it had served him well over the years -- it was something that occasionally needed to be kept in check.

This situation, for example. Clearly there was a problem, that was undeniable at this point. And clearly it had something to do with… Clearly Ezra had problems in the dark. But that could be all it was. It didn’t mean anything else was happening. It certainly didn’t mean… it didn’t mean that he had to jump straight to the worst case scenario.

So, Ezra tripped on occasion, so he caught his elbows on the edges of doorframes as he passed through, so he had been tripped by Chopper no fewer than three times over the past week, and that was despite his obvious wariness around the droid. All of that could be explained away by a sudden attack of clumsiness. Of course, that could have all kinds of worrying causes too, but he wasn’t going to start down that path. Maybe he was just coming down with something; that would explain why his concentration was off too. It could explain ev… almost every… it could explain some of it, at least.

The point was, he told himself sharply, there were dozens of other reasons for everything. Perhaps two different strange things could even have two different explanations. And if this had been picked up upon by somebody else, or even by himself a few months earlier, the likely conclusion would have been different; he was still so caught up in his own issues that he was projecting them onto others. And that was, frankly, ridiculous.

The med droid, Enno-fifteen, wasn’t actually a fully-trained psych droid, but he had some basic programming, and an eagerness to test out his skills. No doubt he would have something to say about this. Although, most likely it would be an expression of disappointment that Kanan wasn’t bringing him something real that he could cure.

Or not. As the case may be.

The point was, he was a pessimist, and at times like this, a little bit of optimism wouldn’t go astray. He almost wished that he could bring Hera in for backup. She served well as the voice of reason, she would come up with an alternative, and correct explanation in seconds, put his mind at rest, and make everything better.

The only reason he didn’t say anything was, what if he was right?

The strip of cloth felt heavy in his pocket. It wasn’t; it was a light synthetic material, slightly stretchy, it should at least be comfortable. Or as comfortable as such things could possibly be. Ezra had a problem with these exercises, and it had been many months before their trip to Malachor when he had last attempted it. Now all he needed to do was gauge Ezra’s reaction. It was going to be weird either way, he just had to judge exactly _how_ weird.

And when it turned out that he was wrong, they would have a normal, if slightly awkward lesson. 

The door opened, and Ezra walked inside. “You’re late,” Kanan told him.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I uh…”

Kanan shook his head and adjusted his tone, softening it slightly. Starting this off on the wrong foot would be a bad idea. “Doesn’t matter, you’re here now.”

Ezra leaned casually against the wall. “So, what were you thinking for today, another field trip?”

He considered it, and instantly dismissed the idea. It was daytime anyway, the sun was up and it wouldn't prove anything. Besides, the thing he was planning was better done in private. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the blindfold.

Ezra didn’t react. He sensed curiosity from him, confusion, but nothing further. Nothing that would imply that it meant anything more to him than a simple training exercise. That didn’t ring true though; didn’t make sense. Ezra had always reacted badly to this in the past, and he had expected the reaction to be doubly so given that this was the first time he had suggested it since Malachor, even if he was wrong about... the other thing. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to upset him, of course. Quite the opposite, but the reaction just felt wrong, somehow. Incomplete.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked.

Another spike of curiosity, and Ezra took a few steps forward, approaching him. Suddenly, he stopped, as abruptly as if he had slammed on the brakes. Curiosity turned to horror, to revulsion but mixed in with some kind of desire; want; need. And then it was gone, shut down in the same way that he had shielded before, blocking Kanan from experiencing what he was feeling.

He took a subconscious step back from the offending item, and Kanan realized with a chill that until that moment, Ezra hadn’t been able to _see_ it. He hadn’t been able to tell what Kanan was holding in his hands until he had moved closer.

“What are you doing?” Ezra asked.

Kanan didn’t answer. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat seized, as the words that he had been unable to bring himself to think suddenly forced their way unbidden into his mind. Ezra both wanted and did not want to do this. He didn’t want it because the idea frightened him, he wanted it because he knew there were things that he needed to learn. He needed to know them because he was going blind.

No.

Just because he could think the words, that did not make it true. Ezra’s reaction could be due to any number of things; top of the list, Kanan’s own blindness and Ezra’s feelings about it. He had let go of a lot of the unfounded guilt he had felt, but Kanan knew that some still remained. 

Only, it wasn't that. He didn’t know how he knew, whether it was his mind finally making the right connections and _allowing_ him to know, or whether the knowledge had been somehow communicated to him via the Force, but he _knew_.

No. He didn’t _know_ anything. He had a theory. One that was growing increasingly more likely, but until Ezra actually confirmed it, there was still that possibility of hope. Maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong, but he may not be entirely right either.

So much for pessimism. He was going to be an optimist about this if it killed him.

He balled the piece of cloth between his fingers and placed it back into his pocket. “Okay, we don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

“No, no… I _do_ want to. It’s just…” Ezra tailed off. Desire and repulsion, fear, apprehension. Need. “How did you…” he stopped again. 

Ezra knew that he knew. They stood opposite one another, neither willing to say the words, neither sure of how to proceed.

Kanan cleared his throat. “We’ll do something else for today.”

Ezra hesitated. “Actually, I’m not feeling too good,” he suggested. “I’m thinking I’ve finally come down with that bug that’s been going around.” He backed off in the direction of the door. “You mind if we maybe…”

“No,” Kanan said. He shook his head. “Or, yes. Um…” he couldn’t think. His head was spinning and what he really wanted to do was take the out that Ezra had offered him, flee the room and find somewhere to sit. Then meditate, to clear his mind and find the clarity that only the Force could offer him. “I mean, I do mind. Stay.”

Ezra paused in his retreat from the room, apprehensive, worried, obviously convinced that Kanan was about to ask him outright. Half of him wanted to do it; to lay out his theory for Ezra and ask for a denial. Or a confirmation, but he didn’t want to think about that. The other half of him wanted to bury his head in the sand for just a little longer.

He took a deep breath. “Ezra, are you…” He paused and cleared his throat. No. One more lesson. A few more hours of normality. There was always tomorrow. “Okay, you managed to move eight objects independently last time, do you think we can get it up to ten?”


	4. Chapter 4

Kanan didn’t get lost any more.

It had been months since it had happened. As he had slowly grown accustomed to navigating without vision, he had developed compensation techniques. Some were as simple as counting the number of steps from one area to another, tracing the wall with his fingertips so that he didn’t miss a turn, or listening out for certain auditory clues that he could use as a place marker; others involved using the Force, reaching out and getting a sense of the area around him, expanding that awareness further to sense a route that he needed to take. He didn’t do that quite as much as people seemed to assume.

The Force was important. It allowed him to fight, it kept him safe, it prevented him from walking into walls or running into other people -- after a fashion, at least. If it weren’t for his scar and the obvious damage to his eyes, it would almost have allowed him to pass for sighted. But for the most part he navigated more familiar areas in ways that most people would have considered disappointingly mundane. It was just easier that way.

But they worked. It took concentration and focus, but he didn’t lose his way anymore. Well, apart from today, apparently.

He came to a dead stop and raised his hand to the nearest wall. There was nothing distinctive about it, the smooth metal of a makeshift base structure, warmed slightly by the heat of the sun. He was outside, the sun on the side of his face told him the approximate direction he was facing, and he could feel gravel underneath his boots.

A little way off, to his left, he could hear two people talking, reminiscing about a recent mission. Instinctively, he turned away from them, embarrassed to have allowed himself to get so turned around and not wanting to show his confusion. He took two steps in the other direction, hand tracking the wall, ducked around a corner and leaned heavily against the wall.

Stupid. But a valuable lesson in how a split second’s inattention could be a disaster. And it had been much longer than a second, he realized now. He had no idea how long he had been walking, allowing his mind to wander, slipping into an almost meditative state as he considered and analyzed what he knew. The ability to do that was a luxury that he could no longer allow himself.

He reached out through the Force, trying to get a reading on his position. He found walls of buildings, he found people, clusters of them together, certain presences within the Force that he recognized, people whose location he could easily guess. He sensed the shape of the area around him, the mass of the nearest building, the rooms inside. Slowly, frustratingly slowly, an awareness began to filter in, and his general location revealed itself to him.

He exhaled, relaxed, and then tensed again as the thoughts that had hijacked his concentration pushed through.

Ezra.

He didn’t move. He kept his feet firmly planted on the ground, not daring to risk making the same mistake again. He had suspected there was a problem now for over a week, since that first burst of panic he had detected from Ezra at the mere mention of his eyes. He had begun to pay attention, his mind filing away pieces of information as he picked up on them, and there was a lot of information, a lot of things to notice. Still, it hadn’t been until the training session today that he had been absolutely certain. The knowledge had hit him like a blaster bolt, knocking him backward and shaking him to his very core, but despite everything, he still couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

Surely the universe couldn’t be so cruel as to do this to somebody else, somebody that he cared about. Surely it wouldn't make him sit back and observe as Ezra went through something like the same ordeal that he had been forced to endure.

But it would. Of course it would. Bitter experience had taught him that things would never work out how he hoped.

He took a moment to compose himself, before stepping back from around the corner and into the main corridor between structures, that ran through the center of the base. He turned in the direction of his favorite meditation spot and began to walk swiftly.

It wasn’t until then that he realized exactly where he was. His specific location, as opposed to enough of an idea of it to allow him to find his way home. He stopped again, so abruptly that someone behind him ran straight into his back. “Hey!” the man complained. “Why don’t you look where you’re…” Kanan turned to face him. “…going.” Awkwardness. The man backed off a little, mumbling, “Sorry. My fault.” He made a swift retreat.

Sometimes, that would bother him. Not the word ‘look’, as the man had obviously assumed, but the whole exchange; the awkwardness, the fact that he was being treated as though he might break. Sometimes, he might even have felt sorry for the other man too; after all, the accident had been entirely Kanan’s fault. But not today. Today, his mind was too focused on Ezra. Ezra, who might, one day soon, have to find a way to deal with that kind of situation for himself.

He raised his hand on the wall, finding the nameplate that he knew was there. His fingertips traced the words, both the slightly raised standard lettering that he could feel but not read, and the indecipherable symbols that made up the tactile alphabet. This was the only place on the base where that particular font could be found, which was one of the reasons Kanan had never bothered to learn it. He reached out through the Force to check the other side of the door. Not prying, just ensuring that there was nobody else inside. When he found the space empty of anybody other than the droid, he knocked once on the door, opened it and walked through.

***

He had never actually seen the med droid. It… he was slightly shorter than the average humanoid, mounted on small wheels that produced a whirring sound whenever it moved. Kanan wondered whether that had been a deliberate feature in the design of the thing; given his specialty, it made sense that he wasn’t able to easily sneak up on the visually impaired.

The droid had been in sleep mode until he entered. He activated as soon as the door opened. Kanan heard him reverse around some obstacle or another, with a slightly higher pitched sound than made by moving forwards, and then approach him. “Kanan Jarrus,” he said by way of a greeting.

He nodded. “Enno-fifteen.”

“It has been only fifteen days, twenty-three hours and eight minutes since your last appointment, and you do not have an appointment scheduled. Have you been experiencing any unusual symptoms?”

“No…” He shook his head, still not entirely sure what it was that he wanted here. The droid couldn’t help Ezra, whatever it was that was happening with him, without him being present. Advice on how to convince him to schedule an appointment might be useful, but for all he knew, Ezra had done that already. “I was just in the neighborhood,” he said. “I thought since I was passing, I might as well have my check-up early.”

The droid released a mechanical sigh. “Statistically unlikely. According to analysis of my interactions with organic lifeforms, in 87% of interactions, the reasons you have stated are designed to serve as an excuse until you feel ready to discuss the real issue. It would save both time and resources if you would be truthful about the reason for your visit.”

Kanan gritted his teeth. “Just the check-up, thank you.”

Enno-fifteen, or to give him his proper name, N0151-A, had been programmed with social skills, after a fashion, but they had been considered secondary to his two primary functions: the first as a specialist medical droid designed primarily for ophthalmology, and the second, a general medical practitioner with an irritating habit of suggesting an eye test alongside treatment for any ailment.

“Please sit.”

A whirring of wheels as Enno-fifteen busied himself collecting the necessary equipment, while Kanan eased himself into the large seat at the far side of the room. The droid approached him and placed his tools on a small table. “Please give me a moment to prepare. Ordinarily, in the event of a scheduled appointment, I would have performed the necessary adjustments prior to your arrival,” he said. There was the sound of equipment being moved around, attached to the droid’s limbs ready for use.

Kanan adjusted his position in the chair. “While I’m here, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said, trying to keep his tone as casual as possible. It didn't make any difference to the droid, but the habit was a tough one to break.

The droid did not pause in his preparations. “As I suspected,” he said. “Proceed.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m interested in the symptoms of eye disorders,” he said. “Specifically, those that would cause someone to lose their vision.”

Enno-fifteen propelled himself to the other side of the room, and returned with some other piece of equipment, which he placed on the small table next to the chair. “That is a very wide spectrum of disorders,” he said. “Is your interest academic? As an organic, it would be beneficial for you to narrow your focus to a particular disorder or small group thereof; you do not have the mental capacity to specialize in such a wide range of disorders.”

Kanan frowned. Whoever it was that had the job of programming these droids really should do a better job of ensuring they didn’t actively insult their patients. “Fine,” he said. “It seems to be progressive, but relatively slow. The main symptom seems to be poor vision in low light. Maybe problems with peripheral vision too, but that’s difficult to confirm.”

The droid did stop his preparations then, though Kanan wasn’t certain whether that was because he was ready to proceed, or because he wanted to devote more of his systems to the conversation. “On the contrary, a field of vision test is very easy to perform, and would highlight those symptoms immediately.”

“Difficult for _me_ to…” He shook his head. “Never mind. Any idea what it could be?”

The droid was silent for a few seconds, presumably checking through his databases. “Yes,” he said. “Those particular issues are symptomatic of 5093 disorders of the eye, nervous system and brain, excluding traumatic etiology.”

“Five thousand…” He shook his head in disbelief. He had had no idea that there were so many. 

“If you can be more specific, I can begin to narrow down the list of diagnoses. What is the species of the affected individual?”

5093 ways to go blind. And that didn’t include trauma or lightsaber wounds. “Human,” he said.

Enno-fifteen made a disappointed-sounding noise. “One of the more common species throughout the galaxy,” he said, “but suffering from relatively few disorders of this kind, due to the overly simplistic design of the eye. If you wish to challenge me, I suggest you pick a species with a compound eye. Assuming no unknown interspecies heritage, disorders of this kind known to present in humans number only 362. How many questions may I ask before you require an answer? I believe the standard is twenty, however that is when the second player can answer only in the affirmative or negative. Given your more complete answers, shall we say five?”

The droid thought they were playing a game. If he hadn’t been so worried, he would have laughed. “Five is fine,” he said instead.

“Very well. Question 1. What is the biological sex of the affected individual?”

Kanan leaned back in the seat. If this had been a game, he might have complained that that was actually the second question, but it wasn’t, it was Ezra’s life. “Male,” he said.

“294,” the droid said. “This number would have been more or less equal whatever your answer, as the majority can be contracted or developed by either of the two human biological sexes; however, should the answer be one of the sex-specific genetic disorders, this would not have been a wasted question. Age is an important factor. After the onset of middle age, the number of possibilities expands exponentially. Please state the patient's approximate age, rounded to the nearest ten if you are unsure.”

“He’s seventeen,” Kanan said. Only seventeen, and already been through so much.

The droid paused to process that piece of information. “Has the patient been experiencing any additional symptoms? Examples of relevant information may include eye pain, headaches, tremors, partial or complete paralysis, muscle weakness, and major personality changes.”

Ezra had complained of headaches too, but not for months. Unless, of course, he had just stopped mentioning it. “Headaches, maybe?” he said.

“I require specificity in your answers.”

“Fine. Yes, headaches.”

“Twenty-seven known disorders are caused by parasites that reside in water on the Outer Rim planet of Szamhuer; has the patient visited this world in the past year?”

“No, he…”

“I have successfully narrowed down the possibilities to seven. Is the disorder genetic, or caused by external factors?”

“I…” Kanan sighed. “I don’t know that.”

Enno-fifteen considered this. “Very well. In that case I am unable to proceed. Please allow me to outline my findings so that you can tell me whether I was successful in identifying the correct disorder.”

Kanan nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I will group my findings into three sections. Firstly, a deficiency in certain vitamins can cause nyctalopia -- an inability to see in low light. Until recently, this was uncommon; however it has become a more regular occurrence in recent years.”

It wasn’t that. Ezra may not have access to the best nutrition, but what they did have contained all the necessary nutrients.

“Group two is disorders caused by genetics. Vision loss is often the first symptom of Accriotic Multiple Degeneration; however, it swiftly progresses to affect other parts of the body, effectively executing a shut-down of all systems. Sacul Syndrome is generally asymptomatic until the patient reaches their late 40s; there is an early-onset variety, but it is very rare and therefore unlikely. Retrograde cecelitis swiftly causes total blindness, and is irreversible. Linofi’s retinopathy is genetic, but triggered by environmental factors, and the progression can be halted if caught in time.

“Group three, pathogens and parasites. The aureshi short-worm is a waterborne parasite that enters the body in a variety of ways, but primarily through the eyes, causing visual disturbances initially. It eventually devours the optic nerve, excreting a toxin which essentially causes brain tissue to break down. Without significant medical intervention, death occurs within three years of infection. The final possibility is optovoric influenza, a viral infection which causes significant damage to the eyes. It generally presents with fever and muscle pain, but there have been documented cases where eye damage is the only reported symptom.”

He stopped speaking suddenly, as though he had been cut off. It took Kanan several moments to realize that he had finished. It was a lot of information to take in. “So… two of those can be fixed?” he said eventually.

“Correct. However, if Linofi’s retinopathy had progressed to the levels you describe, it would probably be too late. Please supply the answer to the puzzle now. Which is the correct disorder?”

One, _maybe_ two out of seven. They’d faced worse odds before. Still, he couldn't help that sick feeling in his stomach as he considered the other possibilities. Numb, he got to his feet and headed to the door.

“Please supply the answer to the puzzle,” Enno-fifteen asked again. “And please sit back down to allow me to complete the examination.”

“Maybe later,” Kanan called as he hurried out the door.

Once outside, he paused again and took a deep breath, attempting to smother rising panic in meditative breathing. One out of seven. One very unlikely possibility, two chances of a horrible death, four ways to go blind.

Every instinct told him to hurry to Ezra, to demand answers, to _help him_. But how? He didn’t know how to do that; he didn’t know if there was anything that he could do to help. He just had to believe that it wasn’t something terrible. There were far worse fates than blindness. The panic he had felt from Ezra had come purely at the mention of his vision. That had to be a good sign. Or, as good as could be expected.

If there had been more to it than that, Kanan would have known.

He should have known anyway.

He needed to do something, he couldn't just allow it to happen.

He didn’t have a choice.

He needed to think. His meditation spot suddenly felt uninviting; too exposed. He turned in the direction of the Ghost, and his quarters, and walked swiftly so as not to invite any conversation.


	5. Chapter 5

Kanan knew.

Ezra tried to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and concentrate on the task of putting one foot in front of the other. He had no particular destination in mind, it was simply something to do.

How did he know? There had to have been something, some mistake he had made that had given him away. Some action, or some inaction. Something he had missed that he should have seen, or something that he hadn’t missed -- something that he had bumped into while not paying attention.

Chopper. Chopper’s new favorite game of trip-the-Jedi. He had even seen him try it on Kanan once or twice, though he had quickly gotten bored of those attempts.

Or, had Chopper finally told someone? The droid didn’t know anything for certain, or he was fairly sure that he didn’t, but he seemed to have a good enough idea of what was going on. But he didn’t _think_ Chopper would do that. For a start, he was having too much fun with it.

So that brought him back to a mistake, and depending on what it was, and on where it had happened, had anybody else noticed too? Did anybody else know?

Did… everybody?

Had it reached the point where it was obvious to them now? Was it something that people talked about when he wasn’t around? How much did they know?

No.

He pushed the thought out of his mind and continued walking, listening to the crunch of the gravel under his feet as he did. If everybody knew, somebody would have said something about it. Which… was what Kanan was obviously attempting to do, but he just couldn’t bring himself to believe that it was general knowledge. Whatever it was that that had clued Kanan in, it had to have been something that only he was aware of.

In a way, it was a good thing. He had, after all, tried to tell him so many times, only to change his mind at the last moment. Of course, that had all been when Kanan could see; Malachor had put a stop to his attempts. After what had happened to Kanan, so suddenly and without warning, his own problems had seemed small by comparison. They had been small then, he realized now. They had gotten bigger, and would continue to do so.

Would it be easier to tell Kanan now? Now that he had been through what he had. Or would that make it so much worse?

It didn't matter. Kanan knew, and he had backed off today, following Ezra’s reaction to the blindfold, but that wouldn’t happen a second time. The next time they spoke, they were going to have to talk about it. And Ezra wanted to do that. He had wanted to do it for so long. He just didn’t know _how_.

He looked around, startled to find himself just outside the Ghost. He had wandered full circle and back again to his starting point. He entered the ship and turned to head to his quarters, but hesitated as he passed Kanan’s door. He stopped just outside.

One thing that he knew for certain was that he didn’t want to be confronted like that again. If he was going to do it, it had to be his decision. He had to choose the time, and the place. He had to initiate the conversation, so that he would be prepared for it.

Not that he would ever be prepared for it. But at least if he could bring himself to do it now, it would be done. He wouldn’t have to worry about it any more.

The next time he spoke to Kanan, they were going to talk about it. That time could be now, when he decided, or later, at a time of Kanan’s choosing. Ezra knew which he would prefer. The only question was, did he have the courage to bring himself to knock on the door?

***

How did you even start a conversation like that?

How did you walk up to somebody, and say, “So, are you going blind?” Or, worse than that, “Are you sure it’s not something much more horrible?”

He could still be wrong. The things he had noticed, Ezra’s reactions to certain questions and actions, they could all be explained away without resorting to frightening-sounding syndromes and disorders. The trouble was, although they _could_ be explained away, he didn’t think that they _would_ be.

Ezra believed it, he was almost certain of that now. Thinking back, with the benefit of hindsight, he could remember so many times that he had been certain Ezra wanted to tell him something. He could remember so many times that Ezra _had_ told him something, him and the rest of the crew. Times when beforehand he had been able to tell that it was something important, but when he had come out and said it, Ezra had blurted some random, irrelevant confession.

He had known there was something more. He should have pushed to find out what it was. Why hadn’t he pushed? Why hadn’t he sat down with him, and told him he had known there was something wrong?

Because he hadn’t known. He barely even suspected that there was an issue, much less what it might have been. Outside of those few scattered moments, there had been no hint of a problem; there had been nothing to notice.

And then, Malachor.

After that, there had been other things on his mind for a long time. And after that, the words appeared to have vanished from the tip of Ezra’s tongue. There had been no more attempted admissions; at least not to him.

Meditation was eluding him. His mind refused to focus, drifting in and out of thoughts and memories like some untrained youngling at the Temple, desperately trying to find that connection to the Force only to feel it slip from his grasp every time he came close.

He stopped. Frustration was only making it more difficult.

He had to stop putting it off. Especially after his conversation with Enno-fifteen. Even if it wasn’t one of the really bad ones, the chances were that it wasn’t good; wasn’t easily fixed or halted. The sooner he confronted him about it, the sooner they had a conversation about it, whatever it was, the sooner Ezra would be able to…

Kanan would be able to teach him how to…

There were things that he had never thought he would have to teach.

He could still be wrong.

For as long as he put off and avoided the conversation, he could still be wrong. But it was a conversation that had to happen.

But how did you begin a conversation like that?

A gentle knocking on the door to his quarters pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he instinctively reached out with the Force to check who was on the other side.

Ezra.

Kanan got to his feet, and walked slowly to the door. He could sense Ezra’s apprehension. But not only that; determination too. He opened the door.

“Hey,” said Ezra immediately, before he could say anything. He tapped his fingers nervously on the doorframe and didn't say anything else for quite some time.

Kanan waited, but the silence stretched a little too long and he needed to fill it. “What’s…”

“Can we talk?” Ezra said abruptly, interrupting him. “Maybe, um… maybe go for a walk and…”

Kanan very deliberately forced himself not to react. After everything, was Ezra coming to him with the… issue? He nodded, still trying to remain as though he were calm and unsurprised. After all that time trying to come up with a way to start the conversation, Ezra had beaten him to it. He should be relieved, or disappointed. As it was, he was simply dreading what he was about to hear.

“Sure,” he said, and closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next chapter...  
> They finally talk!
> 
> Please drop me a comment to let me know if you're enjoying this. Or if you're not, for that matter, so I can try to make it better!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, they talk...

Ezra walked more quickly than felt natural, in a subconscious attempt to make the activity match the pounding of his heart. His mouth felt dry. He licked his lips and forced himself to concentrate on the act of walking forward, putting one foot in front of another with no particular destination in mind. As long as he kept moving, Kanan trailing a step or two behind him, he still had time to think.

Kanan _knew_. He didn’t fully understand how he had figured it out, but he knew. Whether it had been something Ezra had done that had given it away, something he had said, or some Force ability that he didn’t yet understand, the fact was undeniable. It was obvious in the questions that Kanan asked, in how he spoke to Ezra now, in the sudden and unexpected suggestion of blindfold training after nothing for so long. Even in the weeks and months before Malachor, that particular activity had disappeared from training sessions, both to Ezra’s frustration and intense relief.

He had tried to tell him, to tell all of them, so many times before. He had had this conversation a hundred different times in his head, with every member of his new family, but he still had no idea what to expect. As soon as he found himself speaking to a real person as opposed to an imaginary one in his head, his carefully scripted speech and predetermined responses to questions would be useless. He took a deep breath, feeling his stomach churning uncomfortably as his steps slowed.

He was going to do it again. So many times he had tried to begin this conversation, only to back out at the last moment, say something else if the situation called for it, and make a swift retreat. This time was going to be no different. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t know how.

Only, this time he had no choice, because Kanan _knew_. Ezra had been keeping the secret for so long that it almost felt like it would only ever be his. Even knowing that his continued silence would eventually lead to a mistake that somebody would notice, he couldn’t imagine a world in which somebody else knew. A world in which everybody knew. But it was coming; whatever he did from this point on, there was no escaping that fact. There never had been, even from the very beginning. Some things just couldn’t be hidden forever.

“So,” Kanan said, still a step behind. “Any particular destination in mind?” He didn’t need to be there, behind him like that; Ezra wasn’t guiding him. He had done that often enough, in the early days, when Kanan was still adjusting; when Ezra would still find him hopelessly lost just meters from where he had expected to be. When Ezra had helped him with a heavy heart, all the while imagining his own future and unable to see anything but emptiness.

Ezra slowed further, allowing Kanan to catch up, and fall into place beside him. “No,” he said. “Not really.”

“Well, here looks as good a place as any.”

Ezra winced at the choice of words, but looked around. They were far enough away from the main structure that there was little danger of anybody interrupting them. Unless someone was specifically coming to speak to one of them, they would have no reason to be out there.

“I get the feeling you want to talk to me about something?” Kanan prompted.

The urge to deny was almost overwhelming. Ezra squashed it down, choosing to say nothing for the moment, knowing that if he opened his mouth, it would be to make an excuse. He couldn't do that this time, and so he clamped his jaw closed and breathed through his nose, slow and even.

His eyes darted around until they found an old storage crate discarded not far away. He turned and walked in its direction. Kanan hesitated a moment before following him.

How did Kanan do what he did? Ezra ached to ask him. Whatever Force abilities his master called upon to navigate and fight and the hundred other things that he did each day that Ezra knew he wouldn't be able to, they were all firmly on the mental list of things that he couldn’t mention. To ask would have been to open himself up to a conversation that he wasn’t ready to have, not to mention one that he didn’t know whether Kanan was ready for.

He leaned heavily against the crate, allowing it to take most of his weight. Kanan stood nearby, one hand touching its flat surface, facing outward into the desert, as though he were taking in the view. He didn't speak again, didn’t prompt or probe for more information or give the impression that he was waiting for something; he simply stood with him, keeping him company as the sun began to set over the desert.

He had to say something. He had to start somewhere, or he would never start at all. In his mind, he traced back through the dozen or so most recent practice talks that had taken place in his head, dismissing every opening as soon as they came to mind. Nothing sounded right. That was the problem. There was simply no easy way to say ‘I’m going blind.’

But he had to say it. Or at the very least, he had to say something; something that would leave him unable to back out. Otherwise, this would go exactly the same as it always did, and that couldn't happen. Kanan knew, and if Ezra didn’t say something, he would do it for him. He needed to do this on his own terms.

He took a breath, licked his lips and cast an eye over the desert beyond the base. “The other week, you asked me…” he began. He took another breath, a deep one, and held it. “You asked if my eyes were okay,” he said.

He left the statement hanging in the air, and waited for a response, but none came. That made a kind of sense, he supposed. He hadn’t asked anything, he had simply stated a fact. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a stab of irritation; he had been hoping that Kanan would take it from there, seize hold of the comment and start to ask questions. Instead, he remained frustratingly silent.

Ezra in turn sank back into silence himself, waiting and hoping for something. After several moments, Kanan appeared to realize that he wasn’t going to continue without prompting. He turned in his direction. “I did,” he said. His voice sounded strange, as though he was forcing himself to speak. As though he didn’t want to be a part of this conversation any more than Ezra.

Ezra licked his lips. “I said they were, but what if…” He stopped, took another breath, and then spat the sentence out quickly, “What if I’d said no?”

The painted eyes of Kanan’s mask appeared to regard him searchingly, and Ezra found himself looking away.

“If you’d said no?” Kanan repeated. “I would have asked what was wrong.”

Ezra shrugged. “Okay, sure. But after that. If it was something bad. What would you do… have done about it?”

“Theoretically?”

Ezra nodded without thinking, but Kanan either picked up on the gesture through the Force, or correctly guessed that it had been there.

“We’d have dealt with it.” He paused, as though waiting for Ezra to say something else.

Ezra took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly through pursed lips.

“Is there something?” Kanan probed.

“No,” he said automatically. The sun was definitely touching the horizon now, and the colors in the sky had darkened and intensified. It was beautiful, but it was also frightening, because it wouldn't be long before night fell and darkness surrounded him. He glanced at the lights of the base. They were enough. “But what if there had been? What if I’d been… what if I was going…” He sighed, frustrated. After so long, he was finally, almost, talking about it, but the words refused to cooperate. “If I’d told you I was having trouble seeing, and maybe it had been going on for a while. What would you have thought?”

He could read Kanan’s frown in the thin line of his mouth, but the mask covering his eyes disguised the rest of the expression. In a way, that made it easier, but he couldn’t help but wish he could see the rest of his face, maybe glean some clue into what he was thinking.

This wasn’t a confession. At least not yet. Speaking in hypotheticals still gave him a way out if he needed it, but it still felt close. It felt as though it was out there already, but he didn’t feel the relief he had imagined; he just felt ill.

“I suppose I would have been be glad you were finally talking about it,” Kanan told him. He paused and turned away. “And sad, because I wouldn’t have wanted to be right.”

Ezra nervously ran his fingers through his short hair. “You’re not… you wouldn’t be angry?” he asked. “About the not telling you sooner, or the lying about it?”

“I suppose I’d be disappointed that you didn’t feel like you could trust me,” Kanan said. “but that would be my failing as your master, not yours.”

“That’s not it,” Ezra promised him. “I know I can trust you. All of you.”

Kanan nodded. “So, hypothetically, if there was a problem, what would it be?”

****

The nerves coming off Ezra were so strong that they almost verged on terror. It wasn’t the sudden, intense burst of panic that Kanan had felt that first time, when he had stumbled upon the truth of what had been behind Ezra’s unusual behavior. And there was no attempt to shut it down this time, to block him from feeling it. He wasn’t broadcasting, but he wasn’t hiding either. Kanan had been able to feel it pushing at him through the Force.

It had been building now for weeks, if not longer, expanding and shrinking depending on the circumstances, but always present. Now, it felt ripe, ready to pick, and Kanan realized that he was no more ready for that than was Ezra. He found himself hoping that it would continue in hypotheticals; not because he didn’t want Ezra to tell the truth, but because he didn’t want the truth in question to be what he was certain it was.

“It… it’s…” Ezra shifted nervously. Kanan was so focused on him that his awareness, through the Force, supplied details of every little fidget and shift in position. Ezra’s hands alternated between running through his hair and wiping the palms down the leg of his pants. He stopped suddenly. Stopped moving, stopped trying to speak, and took a breath, deep and cleansing. One lifted straight from the meditation exercises that Kanan had shown him. “Kanan, what’s it like?” he asked. “I just realized I never asked you, and I’m sorry if I maybe shouldn’t, but…” Fingers ran through his hair again.

“What’s what like?” he asked, speaking gently, and already anticipating the reply. He knew what he meant, but he didn’t want to assume.

Ezra’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “What’s it like to be… to not be able to see?”

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. It was like a great many things, it was frustrating, and at times frightening, and it made everything harder, even with the Force on his side, but at the same time, the knowledge that he had overcome the obstacle that had been placed before him was almost gratifying. But most of the time he just tried not to think about it.

It had not been an easy lesson to learn, but he knew now that he didn’t need to see. That didn't stop thoughts of what he was missing from provoking a deep sense of loss. So he pushed it to one side, until the idea ambushed him unexpectedly; a few words overheard, his mind wandering as he lay in bed at night, the smell of paint as Sabine walked past him…

“It… took some getting used to,” he admitted. “It’s still not always easy, but I’m okay now. Mostly.”

There was another long pause. Ezra wasn’t fidgeting anymore; instead, he was standing very still, his breathing shallow. “So, if someone else was having problems, if they were eventually going to… do you think they’d be okay too?”

Traditionally, Kanan wasn’t a tactile person, never had been. Half of Hera’s non-verbal communication came through touches, nudges, hugs; it had taken some getting used to at first, but now he had come to rely on it. Even more so since losing his sight, it had become like a lifeline to him at times. But it still wasn’t often that he felt the need to reach out to somebody himself. Right now, he ached put an arm around Ezra but something held him back. Ezra was another tactile person, but it wasn’t time for that yet. There was still more to be said.

“I do,” he said carefully. “Especially if they were a Force user too. But even if they weren’t. It’s just a case of getting used to a new reality.”

“But how long do you think it would take?” Ezra asked. “I mean, if the person could still see, and they had time to prepare, could I be ready for it before it happened?”

Kanan didn’t miss Ezra’s slip of the tongue. Instinctively, he turned his face away before Ezra could register his reaction. His heart sank at the sound of the one tiny word that ripped away any pretense. He felt as though the ground was spinning, and instinctively tightened his grip on the lid of the supply crate to steady himself. He didn’t mention it yet. Ezra didn’t appear to have noticed what he had done. “I suppose they could,” he said. “Depending on how much time they had.”

“Maybe…” Ezra hesitated. “A few years. You know, before…” he tailed off.

Kanan nodded. “It’s something we could work on.”

“The thing is, I’m not sure how bad it’s going to get before then. All the information talks in terms of years but nothing specific about what happens when,” Ezra said. “I… they…” He took a short breath and forced out a sigh. “I don’t know enough about it.”

And there it was, a deliberate admission. Kanan’s mind raced, a hundred questions each vying for attention. “Okay,” he said, speaking with a calm that he didn’t feel. “Why don’t you start by telling me what it is?”

Ezra didn’t reply. Kanan could hear him breathing next to him, slow and steady, but sounding as though he was controlling it carefully, deliberately keeping it that way for fear of allowing panic to take over. Of course, this was probably the first time Ezra had said any of this out loud, and Kanan knew from experience how difficult that could be.

“It’s called Sacul Syndrome,” Ezra said finally, in a small voice. “It’s genetic, and it wasn’t supposed to happen yet.”

He remembered the name from his talk with Enno-fifteen. It wasn’t one of the really bad ones, but beyond that, he couldn’t remember what had been said. He edged himself a little closer to Ezra and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s for old people,” Ezra continued. “You’re not even supposed to get symptoms until you’re older than _you_ are.”

Kanan forced a smile despite himself, “Older than me?” he said. “Wow, that is old.”

“You know what I mean,” Ezra said, voice increasing in volume slightly as his confidence grew. “It’s not supposed to start until you’re about forty or more, and then it moves pretty slowly. But then it turns out there’s this early onset version that starts in your teens and makes you…” He took a deep breath, and another. “Makes you… blind in couple of years.”

He stumbled over the word as though it were unfamiliar, while in reality, Kanan knew that it must have been echoing around his mind for some time. He moved his hand to Ezra’s other shoulder, draping an arm protectively around him, and pulled him closer. “When did you start to notice?” he asked.

He felt Ezra shrug. “Hard to say,” he admitted. “I… guess looking back, it was probably getting worse for a while before I noticed anything. Remember that mission where we ended up having to camp out overnight? You were all talking about the stars. I couldn’t see them.”

Kanan thought back. It had been a long time ago, long enough ago that the addition of Ezra to their little group had still felt almost new. Before or after they had joined with the larger Rebellion? He wasn’t sure; all he knew for certain was that it was a long time. So long that the idea was almost impossible to process. Every training session, every conversation, every mission they had been on since then, Ezra had done with this thing hanging over his head.

Now that he thought about it, a lot of things were beginning to make sense. “All that time?” he said, the enormity of it still sinking in.

“I never put anyone in danger!” Ezra assured him, as though Kanan’s heartbreak at the pain his Padawan had been hiding was an accusation. “If there had been any chance of that, I would have said something.”

“I know,” Kanan promised him. Truthfully, he doubted that, but saying anything wouldn’t be helpful. “So, when did you find out for certain? What did the medic say?”

Ezra hesitated. The silence stretched for a little too long, and Kanan realized why. “You haven’t spoken to anybody about it, have you?”

“I don’t need to,” Ezra told him. “I know what it is. It’s in my family. My great-aunt had it, she couldn't see at all by the time she was killed, I don’t think. My dad… I guess he died before he was old enough to get it. Or maybe not, maybe… I don’t know. Either way, he passed it on to me. Lucky me, huh? A reminder of my family to keep with me.” Ezra’s voice was shaking now, and his distress, communicated through the Force, was almost palpable, but he was somehow managing to hold back his tears, masking them in anger and sarcasm.

Kanan tightened his grip on his Padawan’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to move away and leave Ezra alone, even for a moment. Against his will, his mind took him back to those first hours of blindness, after the shock had lifted, but before he was well enough, out of pain enough, to do anything other than sit. The dull sense of loss, the voices all around him, people moving, touching him, trying -- failing -- to help. He didn't want that for Ezra, he didn’t want any of it for him. He had fooled himself into believing that once the secret was out in the open, things would be easier; he hadn’t been prepared for this agony. There was nothing he could do, no way to prevent it from happening. He couldn’t sit back and let it happen. He couldn’t…

“Kanan?”

Ezra’s voice cut through the swirling thoughts in his mind. Suddenly, Ezra’s hands were touching him, supporting him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Kanan blinked beneath his mask. He forced himself to breathe. No, he wasn’t okay, he was so far from it. He nodded, because he had to be there for Ezra, not the other way around.

“You sure?” Ezra asked, “because you look kinda…” He tailed off.

He had to get Ezra to Enno-fifteen.

“…zoned out?” Ezra continued. “Well, as much as I can tell with that thing over your face.”

“ _I’m_ fine,” Kanan told him. It was times like this that he missed having the ability to glare. But how soon would it be before Ezra was thinking thoughts like that? How long did he have before… “There’s a med droid on the base, an eye specialist. You need to get there,” he said. “Now.”

Ezra, predictably, didn’t move. “I’m not sure…”

Kanan rounded on him. “This isn’t a game, Ezra. You don’t get to guess your diagnosis. Do you have any idea how many other horrible things there are out there that start the same way as this thing you’re describing? There’s one that makes your body shut down a piece at a time, another one that’s caused by a parasite entering through the eyes, traveling down your optic nerve and starting to dissolve your brain. Did you know about these things?”

“Um, no,” Ezra told him. “Why do you?”

“It could even be something that can be fixed. Not everything has to have the worst possible outcome, you know? Sometimes one of us has to get lucky.”

Ezra hesitated. “It’s in my family, you think this is going to be sitting in my family tree and I happen to get a _different_ thing with the exact same symptoms?”

Kanan sighed. “So maybe it’s not likely,” he said. “But you… we… don’t know until we know.”

He heard Ezra sigh, and the sound of the tip of his boot scuffing against the ground. “But what if I’m right?”

And there was the problem. In an instant, he was right back at his own diagnosis. He had known already. Even on the journey home, Ezra’s horror at that glimpse of his wound. From the moment, a split second before the lightsaber had made contact, when he had realized it was too late to dodge or to block. He had known.

Hearing it had still hurt. It still did hurt.

“If you’re right, we’ll deal with it. We. Not you on your own.”

Ezra took a deep, shaky breath

Kanan suppressed the urge to make promises that he couldn’t keep. He couldn’t say it would be okay, he couldn't say that Ezra was going to be fine, or that losing your sight wasn’t as bad as he was no doubt imagining. He couldn’t pretend that it was going to be easy. What he could do was be there. and hope that that was enough.

“Whatever it is, I’m going to be here for you,” he said. “We all are. That’s never going to change.”

Ezra exhaled a quick puff of air. “You know, you should be careful saying things like that,” he said. “I’m a teenage boy, there’s always the chance I’ll take it as a challenge.”

Kanan smiled, and it was almost sincere. “Go right ahead,” he said. “But first, to the med droid, okay?”

Ezra released a burst of nervous laughter. “I suppose you win,” he said.

Kanan placed an arm over Ezra’s shoulder as he walked him the the medbay. Partly for support, partly to ensure that he didn’t bolt before they arrived. They walked in silence, neither sure what to say next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You think this one was angsty, wait till you read the next part..!
> 
> Reviews are loved, as always.


	7. Chapter 7

There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ezra swallowed; his mouth was dry, his head was spinning, and he felt a little dizzy from the fact that he was breathing far too quickly. He tried to slow it down, but his lungs refused to respond to his command.

He walked just behind Kanan, feeling his feet dragging on the ground as he allowed himself to be led to the med droid. Not led like Kanan had needed leading once, not yet, he was just following him because although he knew where the office was, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to find it right now. He wasn’t sure he was capable of doing _anything_ right now.

“What’s he going to do?” he asked. He could hear his nerves in his voice and he hated it. He had pictured this a hundred times in his head, planned it out in intricate detail, what to do, what to say, how to react. He was doing it wrong, and he couldn’t stop himself. He cleared his throat and tried to force a little confidence into his tone. “The droid, I mean.”

Kanan turned to face him. What was the point of that? Was it just a habit, or was it something that he had to make a conscious choice to do every time, to maintain some semblance of normality? Or a practical decision; it was easier to hear someone when they were facing you. Was it something that Ezra would do, when it would have no benefit for himself? Would he forget sometimes?

“I’m not sure,” Kanan told him. “Tests, I suppose.”

“Yeah, but what tests?” He slowed a little as they neared the makeshift buildings that made up the base. All around them, people were going about their daily business with no idea of what was happening. He looked away, willing nobody to notice him, to see the expression he knew that he was wearing on his face; that would only invite questions. Maybe not right now, but later, when they happened to see him around. He didn’t want to have to think up a response.

Kanan frowned. “Um… He’ll want to look at your eyes,” he said. “Look inside them. Probably ask what you can see…” He tailed off.

“Anything else?” He ducked his head to avoid the gaze of one of his pilot friends who was hurrying past, probably on her way to some mission or another. He successfully avoided eye contact.

“Routine eye test stuff, I guess,” Kanan suggested. “At first, anyway.”

Ezra frowned. “But what is routine? I think the last time I had one I was six.”

“I…” Kanan hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s been years for me too. My appointments aren’t exactly standard anymore.”

And nor would Ezra’s be from now on. He felt his feet dragging again, in a subconscious attempt to delay his arrival. He forced himself to stop it, to pick up the pace. It was going to happen regardless. It wouldn't make anything better if it happened a few minutes later.

The entrance to the droid’s office was a nondescript metallic sliding door at the far side of one of the larger, block-style buildings that had sprung up in the center of the base proper. There was nothing to distinguish it from any other door in the place, apart from a small name panel on the front.

Ezra squinted at it. In addition to the standard Aurebesh, there was another set of markings on there, not painted, simply made of bumps in the metal. He took a step forward to read the word. The nameplate was loose, and the word read… Vision?

That didn’t make sense. The med droid was here for any and all medical issues; they didn’t have a fully equipped hospital on the base with different departments. They barely had the resources to treat the standard field injuries they saw on a regular basis. “Does that…” he started to say, and then stopped. If he was reading it wrong, he didn’t want Kanan to know the extent of his problems. Besides, Kanan couldn’t exactly read it either.

And neither would Ezra be able to soon.

Kanan touched the panel to open the door, and as he did, Ezra noticed how badly the nameplate had come loose. It was hanging upside down. That made a lot more sense. Or, it would have done, if it hadn’t appeared to read… Noisi-A?

Okay. He dismissed that as irrelevant for now, and followed Kanan through the open door into a small, brightly lit, white-walled room containing a large black chair and several machines, the use for which he had no guess whatsoever.

A medium-sized droid approached them, approximately Ezra’s own height, and a polished bright white. It had been built to vaguely resemble a humanoid form; a bulky torso with two arm-like limbs, onto which various pieces of equipment could be attached. Its head had been built to give the impression of a face. From below its waist, two legs protruded, but instead of feet they were mounted on a base containing several small wheels.

As it moved toward them, the wheels made a sound, a high-pitched whirring noise that was impossible to ignore. Ezra winced. It wasn’t unpleasant as such, but it seemed like an unnecessary design flaw, one that could probably be fixed by any of the engineers on the base.

The droid approached Kanan without seeming to register Ezra’s presence. That was fine with him. He edged back a little and placed Kanan between him and the droid, folded his arms tightly, and examined the contents of a supply cabinet to his left. The glass door was locked shut, but though the glass he could see a large variety of medicines, all neatly stored and labeled.

“Kanan Jarrus,” the droid said. “Thank you for your swift return. As you are no doubt aware, regular checkups are of vital importance, and I cannot condone your leaving before I am able to complete my tests. Please sit.”

“Well, actually…” Kanan said.

“In addition, I would appreciate it if you could supply the answer to the puzzle you posed earlier. Analysis of the stated facts has allowed my to order my responses according to likelihood, based only on what I know, however your leaving without providing a response was most dissatisfactory.”

Kanan moved a little to the left, exposing Ezra to the droid’s notice. He placed a hand on Ezra’s shoulder supportively, but at the same time pushed him forward half a step. “It… wasn’t a puzzle,” he said.

The droid moved forward slightly, giving the impression of curiosity. As it did, its wheels made that strange noise again. Of course, now the name made sense. Noisi, it must be some kind of nickname.

It turned back to Kanan. “Please clarify your statement,” it demanded.

Kanan ignored it for a moment and turned to face Ezra instead. “We weren’t playing a game,” he said. “He misinterpreted, I was trying to… never mind.” He turned back to the droid. “This is Ezra Bridger,” he said. “He’s, um…” deep breath, his fingers tightened just a little on Ezra’s shoulder. “He’s been having some… issues with his vision. I was hoping you could take a look.”

***

The tests had passed in a blur, and thinking back, he couldn’t quite remember what had happened, in what order, how long it had taken, what had been said. He remembered the diagnosis. It had been exactly what he had been expecting, and he didn’t understand why hearing it had hurt so much.

The droid’s mechanical voice had remained calm and inflectionless. “Unfortunately, I am required to inform you that you are suffering from early onset Sacul Syndrome…”

Ezra buried his head in his hands and leaned forward to rest on his peaked kneecaps. The hard floor and the metal of the door behind him pressed uncomfortably into his skin, neither surface retained heat well, and he shivered.

The droid had paused then. It was probably because his programming allowed him to be aware of the emotional implication of that statement, and he had been allowing a respectable amount of time for it to sink in, but the moment had seemed to last for an eternity. Ezra remembered taking a deep, calming breath, the kind Kanan had taught him to use when he began a meditation. It had come out more ragged than he had intended, catching in his throat as though his body were rejecting the oxygen.

_“You are suffering from early onset Sacul Syndrome…”_

Seated on the floor of the small public washroom attached to the medical office, where he had fled, Ezra ran his fingers through his hair. The new, shorter style still felt strange. He hadn’t intended to run into the bathroom. He hadn’t intended to run anywhere. When he had imagined this moment in his head, which he had done more times than he could remember, that was not the reaction that he had anticipated.

There had been tears; there had been anger; there had been calm acceptance, a nod of thanks and a stroll out the door; there had been a stream of intelligently thought out questions. Not once had there been that panic; that overwhelming and completely illogical desire to flee. There was nowhere that he could run from this. He knew that, he had accepted it a long time ago, but he just couldn’t go back out there. Not yet.

Anyway, outside might not have been the best place for him. Not if he wanted to avoid being the subject of base gossip. He hadn’t bothered looking in the mirror, but he knew how obvious it would be to anyone with eyes that there was something wrong.

_To anyone with…_

If they worked.

Tears blurred his vision, and suddenly he couldn't see. He couldn't see straight _right now_ , and now it was official; soon he wasn't going to be able to see anything ever again. He blinked and swiped angrily at his eyes with the tips of his fingers, clearing the film of saltwater that obscured his sight.

Outside in the office, he could hear that whirring noise as Noisi moved around. He was speaking, and Kanan was answering, but he couldn't make out the words.

There had been a lot of words spoken over the past… however long it had been. He had no idea how long he had been in there. His arm itched where the needle had collected the blood sample for the genetic tests. He remembered the cold of the swab before the needle went in, but not the sample itself.

He remembered the results.

He remembered Kanan’s hand, and how it had literally never left his shoulder or his back, as though he didn’t want to let him go. He was grateful for that. He hadn’t realized him much it had helped, until he had bolted and left him on the other side of the door.

He remembered Kanan’s obvious anxiety, his insistence that Noisi check for and eliminate certain things before others.

_The parasite thing, test for that first.”_

_“The aureshi short-worm would have been easily detectable by the tests I have already performed, I have eliminated it as a possibility.”_

_“The other thing, then. The other one that…”_

Noisi had said a complicated sounding name. He didn't have that either, Noisi would have noticed other systems shutting down. That meant that he wasn’t dying. Worst case scenario, he had been right.

He remembered laughing, somewhere on the verge of hysteria. It had been a relief, in a way. He had never really believed it was anything but Sacul Syndrome, but it was good to know that he wasn’t going to die. On the other hand, that news was tempered by the knowledge that he was moving closer to confirmation of the diagnosis he had been expecting. He wasn’t dying, he was just…

Kanan’s hand had slipped from his shoulder for just a moment, replaced by two arms around him.

_“I know. I know. But it is a good thing. It’s better to be blind than dead.”_

Blind.

He had nodded dully, forcing himself to breathe normally. He had known this was happening for over a year now, he didn’t understand why it was so hard to talk about; so hard to hear.

He sounded the word out in his head, gave himself a little time to feel it. He closed his eyes and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of his heart, his breathing and the rising sense of claustrophobia as he remembered training, both with Kanan and alone; the feeling of a blindfold covering his eyes. A blindfold that, one day soon, he would never, ever be able to remove.

He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know how. He wasn’t ready, he would never be ready.

_"You are suffering from early onset Sacul Syndrome…”_

Kanan's hand, still touching his shoulder, had tightened its grip reflexively at the official diagnosis. Ezra couldn't be sure whether it was a deliberate move to remind him of his presence and offer support, or a mirror of his own fists, suddenly clenched in his lap, as though he was holding tightly onto a ledge. He pulled in another breath.

At some point, when the tests were complete and the droid knew what it was, and there had been nothing to do but wait for the results of the genetic test to confirm, he and Kanan had swapped places. He didn't remember it happening. He didn’t remember why, or who had suggested it, or how long the wait had been. What he did remember was watching the tests, mirrors of some of those performed on himself.

Kanan hadn’t reacted when the droid had shone the bright light into his eyes; the one that had made Ezra wince at the unexpected brightness and try to turn his face away. Kanan hadn’t even flinched. It sounded ridiculous, but it hadn’t been until that moment that he had realized how truly without sight Kanan was.

He thought of the light shining into his own eyes as the droid had tonelessly given him instructions: to look left, right, up, down. Kanan hadn’t actually been _looking_ anywhere; simply, passively, following the instructions.

There had been no vision tests for Kanan either. No characters to read on a chart, no test of his color perception; the droid had not measured his field of vision, noting the deterioration that he had previously been tracking only anecdotally in terms of degrees of angle.

Kanan hadn’t flinched.

_“You are suffering from early onset Sacul Syndrome…”_

_“Thus far, I have detected nothing unusual or noteworthy in the degeneration, suggesting that the progression will be as would be expected. From the onset of noticeable symptoms, total vision loss can be expected within…"_

No. He couldn’t… he hadn’t been ready to hear that part. Even though he had already known, he couldn’t do it. Ezra had sprung to his feet before the droid could finish. His sudden leap upward knocked Kanan’s hand from his shoulder, and he turned and ran for the nearest door. Behind him he was vaguely aware of the droid still speaking, but Ezra could no longer hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

_“…early onset…”_

After a few steps, he had stopped, hesitating. His vision had blurred far beyond its usual, as tears filled his eyes. He hadn’t been sad, or even shocked. What he had been, was angry, and afraid, and halfway to the kind of panic he had experienced only once, maybe twice in his life.

Kanan had called his name, he remembered that more clearly than anything. The tone of his voice, the shock, the sorrow, like he had been expecting other news; like the universe had let him down once again.

"Ezra..."

Ezra twitched in surprise as Kanan's voice again cut sharply through his spiraling thoughts. He tapped gently on the door, and Ezra's back, pressed against the hard surface, felt the vibrations. "Ezra, can you come out now?”

He shook his head, a useless gesture even without a door separating them. He couldn’t. He could barely bring himself to move, or speak. So he didn't. Instead, he continued to rest his head in his hands and tried to stop thinking

"Or, I could come in?" Kanan suggested after a short pause. "If that's easier."

He wasn't going to go away. Of course he wasn’t. Ezra shifted slightly in his position on the floor, and his legs protested fiercely. He realized then, that he had been sitting there for quite some time. How long, he had no idea.

“Ezra…” Kanan tried again.

He forced himself to his feet and examined himself in the small mirror hanging above the sink, brushed his hand quickly over his face and through his hair, as though how he looked would make any difference to Kanan.

Or to himself, soon…

_“You are suffering from early onset Sacul Syndrome…”_

He had known that already, he told himself sharply. He turned the lock and opened the door to find himself staring at the expressionless mask that covered Kanan's face. He looked down at his feet instead. 

“Thank you,” Kanan said. He looked, and he sounded, like he just had no clue how to proceed. Just like Ezra. “Okay, you have two options,” Kanan told him. “You can stay here and finish this now, or you can come back tomorrow. Your choice.”

Still staring at the tips of his own toes, Ezra frowned. “You didn't ask if I was okay," he said.

"No," Kanan agreed. "I didn't."

He sucked in another deep breath. It sounded almost normal. He felt... not normal. Not at all. But calmer now. “I have to go,” he said. It was the overriding thought in his head, he had to be somewhere else. Anywhere. He sidestepped past Kanan to make his quick escape, but was stopped by a hand blocking his way. Kanan paused as though he was considering what to say, and then allowed his hand to drop to his side instead.

Ezra deliberately didn't look at the droid, as he walked quickly out of the medbay and out into the arid air of the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did warn you about the angst factor in this chapter.  
> Just updates are going to slow down now, I'm afraid. I'll be going every two days now, to keep in line with my updates on tumblr.
> 
> Comments are loved, as always!


	8. Chapter 8

Zeb was in their room when Ezra rushed through the door in search of sanctuary. He glanced up as the door opened, registered Ezra’s presence, and then glanced away again. He looked back, less than a second later with a confused expression on his face. “What’s with you?”

Ezra froze. “What?”

“You look like you’re about to collapse. Kanan’s really been putting you through your paces, huh?”

“Uh…” Ezra ran his hands quickly through his hair, and glanced in the mirror. He looked… he thought he looked, completely normal. “Yeah, that’s it exactly,” he mumbled as he pulled off his boots and climbed into bed. “Jedi training, you know.”

Zeb made a disinterested noise and went back to whatever he had been doing, while Ezra placed his head on his pillow and faced the wall. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep. Even putting aside the fact it was far too early, his mind was still racing, spinning endlessly around snippets of conversation, things that stuck pointlessly in his mind; the way the overhead lights reflected in the shiny surface of the med droid’s head; the feeling of Kanan’s hand dropping from his shoulder as he fled; the click of the bathroom door as he locked it closed behind him and sank down to the floor.

_“Early onset…”_

“You sure you’re alright, kid? Your breathing sounds weird.”

Ezra closed his eyes and pulled the blanket over his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just tired. Like you said, Kanan’s been working me pretty hard.”

He got the impression that Zeb wasn’t convinced, but an unexpected wave of exhaustion washed over him and suddenly he really was tired. He didn’t want to sleep, not really. Sleep would mean dreams, and he did not want to relive the events of this day in any form at all.

***

Awareness crept up on him slowly. Ezra shifted his position slightly and heard the mattress of his bunk creak below him. As he moved, the blood rushed back to his left arm, which had been twisted underneath him, and the feeling began to return with an unpleasant tingle. He rubbed it gently as he sat up.

He felt okay, and something about that didn't seem right. There was something that should be bothering him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He very deliberately dismissed the thought and poured all of his concentration into what he was doing.

He climbed down from his bunk quietly in case Zeb was still sleeping, but when he checked his bed he found him absent. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes and slipped into the bathroom to wash and change. As the door clicked closed behind him, he froze.

Oh.

He was leaning heavily against a door, sliding his back downward until he was seated on the floor, Kanan and the droid outside, waiting for him.

No no no…

It was a dream. It _had_ to have been a particularly vivid dream.

Only, it hadn’t been. The memories came back to him in pieces, spiraling out from that moment when had closed the door behind him and sank to the floor.

Forcing himself to move, Ezra went through the motions of washing and dressing.

It could have been a dream. He had been having some pretty intense dreams lately. And the fact that he needed to tell them had been weighing on his mind again lately. It couldn’t be real, because there was no way he would respond like that.

Right?

He needed to see Kanan. He couldn't come out and _ask_ him, but his reactions would tell Ezra everything he needed to know. If he was lucky, Kanan wouldn’t be around.

He dumped his old clothes in the hamper, opened the door and checked left and right for any sign of the Jedi before stepping out and heading to the lounge area to grab something to eat. He walked through the door and stopped as he noticed Kanan sitting at the table. He wasn’t wearing his mask, and his hair was a mess, as though he hadn’t bothered to comb it or re-tie it back. His eyes were closed and from where he was sitting, Ezra could clearly see the scar across his face. He appeared to be deep into a conversation with Zeb, but he froze noticeably as Ezra entered the room.

He recovered quickly, and shot a half-smile in Ezra’s direction, though it looked more like a grimace, and in that instant Ezra knew without any doubt that his memories were just that. He began to back away, ready to make an excuse and leave, when Zeb to turn to look at him. “Morning, kid. You must have been tired, you’ve slept half the day away.”

Ezra looked at him, trying to read the expression on his face. Did he know? Surely Kanan wouldn’t have… No. Of course he wouldn’t.

Zeb grinned in his direction and Ezra tried to return the smile. “Just remembered, I, uh…” He pointed at the door before making a swift exit.

Behind him as he fled, he could hear Zeb asking, “What was that about?”

***

Kanan could understand how Ezra had survived so long on the streets. The kid had a real talent for not being found, as well as for slipping away at the last moment, just when you thought you’d managed to pin him down.

Of all the people on the base, Ezra, as a Force user, was the easiest to find. His presence shone like a beacon to those that knew how to find it; he needed to work on disguising that better. But that was a lesson for another day. Today there would be no lessons. But they did need to talk

Ezra, apparently, felt differently.

Seated in his quarters, Kanan closed his eyes and concentrated on Ezra’s presence. It was easy enough to sense that he was nearby, but less easy to narrow that down to a specific location. He found him, finally, by process of elimination, and by the presence of two of his pilot friends in close proximity. Kanan had never known them to be far from the hangar bay, even when off duty.

He got to his feet, placed his mask over his eyes, and made his way there.

Ezra was gone.

“He was here maybe ten minutes ago,” one of the pilots told him. “He said there was something he needed to do.”

Kanan frowned. “Did he say what?”

“Nope. Musta been important though, because I was offering him the chance to get in the cockpit of one of these babies.” He patted the ship he was working on affectionately. “I mean, I wasn’t going to let him fly it anywhere, but still, it’s amazing in there.”

“I’m sure,” Kanan told him. “If he comes back, will you tell him I’m looking for him?”

There was no response, then an embarrassed “Oh, yes. Sorry.” Also known as “things people say after nodding, #3”.

Kanan thanked the pilot and left.

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

“He was here earlier,” Sabine told him. She was busily cataloguing weapons and explosives, noting down supplies that were needed and those that they could manage without for a little longer. “Didn’t stick around for long though.”

Kanan nodded. That seemed to be the theme for the day.

“He seemed kinda distracted,” she added. “Is he okay? There’s nothing going on, is there?”

Kanan hesitated. “Nothing new,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie, Ezra was in exactly the same position today that he had been in for the past year.

“Right.” Sabine sounded unconvinced.

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

“Hey, Hera. You haven’t seen Ezra around anywhere today, have you?”

“Actually, yes,” she replied. “It was the strangest thing, I asked him to clean the Phantom’s cockpit.”

Kanan shrugged. “That doesn’t sound _that_ strange,” he said.

Hera sighed, and in his mind’s eye he could see her lips pursed in irritation. “No, what was strange was that he just went and did it without complaining.”

“So, let me get this straight. You’re complaining that he didn’t complain?”

She sighed. “No, of course not. It’s just you said you thought there was something bothering him. I’m wondering if you were right.”

Kanan shook his head. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” he said, and made a quick retreat.

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

“Hey, Kanan.” Zeb was striding toward him. Kanan slowed to a stop and waited for him. “You don’t happen to know where Ezra’s gotten himself to, do you?”

Kanan shook his head. “I was about to ask you the same thing. I haven’t seen him all day.”

Zeb paused, considering. “Very funny.”

“No, I wasn’t…” He resisted the urge to rest his head in his hands; he shouldn’t have to watch what he said like that. No more than anybody else should feel like they had to watch their words around him. But they did.

He didn’t want that to be something that Ezra ever had to worry about either, but it would be.

“I don’t know where he is,” he said. “I was going to ask if you did.”

“Right.” Zeb paused. “Can’t help you, sorry.”

***

Ezra sat tucked into his second-favorite hiding place, wedged between two large bumps of a rock formation just within the perimeter of the base. It was surprisingly comfortable, shaded by the large bulk of the rocks that hung overhead, warmed by the sun that had passed over there earlier in the day, and most importantly, quiet. Nobody came that way; nobody would have any need to.

Kanan was searching for him. He had seen him around once or twice, and been told by two people that he was wanted. He had even considered going to find him, but decided against it.

He still couldn’t quite believe that he had told him. And now that Kanan knew, things were supposed to be easier, not harder. No longer having a secret should have been a weight off his shoulders. As it was, everything seemed so much worse.

Sooner or later, he was going to have to tell everyone.

Kanan had kept his secret for him so far, but he couldn’t expect him to do that indefinitely. Sooner or later, Kanan was going to insist that the others know. He couldn’t do that if Ezra remained out of reach.

The idea felt less daunting now, having done it once, and knowing that the next conversation wouldn’t be immediately followed by a trip to the med droid. That had been the worst part of it. The actual admission hadn’t been so bad.

Actually, it had been horrible. But he had survived it. Right now he just wanted not to have to think about it.

The problem was, it was everywhere. He had thought that if he could just stay away from Kanan for a while, it would be alright. If he could be around people who didn’t know; who had no idea that there was anything wrong, he could forget it for himself too. But every person he spoke to had been that difficult conversation waiting to happen.

He wanted to be alone.

Only, being alone left him with nothing to do but think. He wanted to find something mindless to do. Only, he had completed the task that Hera had given him and found himself with the same problem again.

And so, he wanted to be around people who didn’t know; around them but not interacting with them, because every conversation was tainted by the secret that he was carrying.

He wanted to start telling people now, get it out there so that it couldn’t be taken back. Shout it from the rooftops if he had to. He wanted to keep the secret forever.

He wanted not to have a secret to keep. He wanted it not to be true; for the droid to have told him he was imagining the whole thing, or perhaps to contact him later today to say it had been a mistake. He wanted to be kicking himself for worrying about something for so long for no reason.

He wanted it to be over, done with. Not to be forced to watch the slow deterioration; to watch the view growing more and more indistinct. He wanted it to be fast, and done with. Like Kanan.

No. No, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to even think about that.

He wanted it to be slow. Slow like it should have been had the syndrome manifested at the right time. Twenty years or more of sight. He wouldn't quite be an old man, but it would have been enough.

But it wouldn’t, of course. No matter how long he had, it would never feel like enough.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run; pick up a beacon, take off into the desert and not stop until he collapsed from exhaustion.

He wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted. It didn’t matter anyway; what he wanted was irrelevant, there was only what he had, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

Slowly, he extracted himself from his second-favorite hiding place and made his slow way back. He was going to have to talk to Kanan again sooner or later; might as well be now.

***

Kanan sat on the ground in his favorite meditation spot, concentrating on the Force; feeling it moving through him and around him, connecting him to everything. Through it, he could sense the people, the structures they had built and the ships they had flown there; he could sense the constant tide of emotion flowing through them; their passions, their fears. He could sense the planet itself, the ground beneath him, the rocks, the air; even, almost, its position within the solar system. But on a smaller scale, drawing his concentration inward, he could feel the presence of every grain of sand beneath him. It was too much detail for everyday use, but as a training exercise, it was fascinating.

With his concentration elsewhere, he heard footsteps approaching before he sensed the presence of the person attached to them. Ezra.

Kanan did not react yet; he continued his meditation, concentrating on maintaining the steadiness of his breathing, feeling the Force surrounding both of them, as Ezra crouched down next to him and sat; silent, waiting.

Finally, Kanan took a final, deep breath and withdrew from the meditation. “You’re a hard person to find,” he said.

Ezra sighed. “I heard you were looking for me.”

Kanan nodded, and realized that suddenly, after following his trail for hours, he had no idea what to say. He shifted into a more comfortable position, still seated on the ground. “I thought you might want to talk,” he said. “But given that you’ve been avoiding me all day, maybe not.”

“I haven’t…” Ezra began, then stopped. “Okay, yeah. I might have been avoiding you just a little bit. But it’s not just you, the past few hours I’ve been avoiding everybody.”

“That’s… not really better.”

Silence.

“How are you doing?” Kanan asked.

A slight scuffing sound as Ezra shifted on the ground, presumably trying to find a comfortable position of his own. “You know…” he said.

He didn’t, not really. He had a good idea, but he was not Ezra and Ezra was not him. Their experiences were not the same, nor would their reactions be.

“Fine,” Ezra added, unconvincingly.

“That’s good.”

“So,” asked Ezra. His voice cracked slightly, “What am I supposed to do now?”

That was not an easy question to answer. Not least because the question itself could mean so many different things. In the long term, he would have to learn a lot, not only about using the Force to sense the world around him, but also the other methods that Kanan had picked up, some by himself, others by the suggestions of those around him.

He would need to re-master skills that he had acquired as a child and never even considered that he might one day lose. There would be things that he had thought of already; things he had seen Kanan struggle with, and perhaps considered how to contend with for himself. There would probably be many more that had not even occurred to him, things that would not, until the time came and he found that he floundered, caught between knowing what to do and an inability to do so because of the limitations of his body.

In the short term, he would have to begin to come to terms with what was happening, find some way to be okay with it; a task that no doubt felt insurmountable at that moment. He would have other people to inform, people that cared about him: Hera, Sabine, Zeb, Rex. And still others to whom his physical condition was important for other reasons: Sato, and anybody else that he might have to work with, or who might need to rely on him.

In the even shorter term, he needed to visit Enno-fifteen again, as Kanan had promised that he would. He was going to have to lead with that one.

“We… you… need to visit the med droid again,” he began. “He wasn’t finished yesterday, there were things he needed to talk to you about. What’s going to happen, and… I guess coping strategies, or…” He didn't really know.

“I know what’s going to happen,” Ezra insisted.

Which was true, of course. “There’s more to it than that though, he’s going to want to monitor you, make sure everything else is alright, give you timescales so we know what we have to work with…”

“That droid creeps me out,” Ezra told him.

That was fair. “He’s the only one we have.”

Ezra sighed deeply. “I don’t want to… I don’t want to have to do any of this.”

“I know.” But there was no way around it. “Just… Come here.” He reached out with one hand and placed an arm around Ezra’s shoulders. He drew him in a little closer and gave him an awkward squeeze, an attempt at showing him that he was still there, that he would always be there, no matter what happened; whether Ezra could see him or not. “Just give him a chance, okay? One visit, if it’s not going to be useful, you’ll only have to go back for checkups.”

Ezra took a deep breath and exhaled a puff of air. “One visit,” he agreed.

“For now,” Kanan added.

He had a feeling that sooner or later he was going to regret saying that.


	9. Chapter 9

Noisi sprung to life the instant they walked through the door. He approached them on his humming wheels from the corner of the room, where he had been waiting in sleep mode for a patient to happen by. “Ezra Bridger. It has been twenty-one hours, seven minutes since your previous visit. Although I appreciate your returning today, I would urge you to schedule and keep an appointment in future. I had been hoping that you would be here earlier, and I have spent much of the day anticipating your return.”

Ezra glanced at Kanan, and then back at the droid. “You have?” he asked. “Why?”

“One does not often get the opportunity to study such a fascinating condition in any detail. Especially not in such a remote and underpopulated locality. The majority of my patients are not even suffering from eye complaints, which is my specialty; I spend much of my time tending to broken bones, lacerations, head injuries and the like.”

Ezra folded his arms across his body and wished that he could exchange a glance with Kanan. 

“As much as I offer to perform eye tests as part of the service, I am regularly turned down. Perhaps your case will serve to convince others of the importance of monitoring eye health.”

He couldn’t do this. Not right now. Maybe never. He turned to glance at the door, only a few steps away. If he bolted, he might even get away before Kanan could stop him. As his muscles tensed, ready to run, Kanan took a step forward. He clasped a hand lightly on Ezra’s shoulder as he did, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s probably enough, Enno-fifteen.” 

The droid inclined its head a few degrees, and gestured to the large chair at the other side of the room with a wave of one of its limbs. “Please sit.”

Ezra eyed the chair apprehensively. There was no reason to be afraid of it. The chair itself had had no bearing on what had happened the last time he had been here, it had just been the place where he had sat. “Why?” he asked. “More tests?”

“In my experience, it is the preference of most organics to sit during occasions such as this. However, you may stand if you would find it more comfortable. I have no need to perform any further tests today.”

Ezra considered this, then very deliberately crossed to the left side of the room and perched himself on one of the two beds pushed against the wall. Noisi made an irritated sound, and propelled himself in the same direction. “The chair is equipped with both a backrest and a footrest for your increased comfort.”

Ezra shuffled back a little and swung his legs back and forth, “I’m comfy here,” he said, in a tone of voice that begged the droid to challenge him.

“Ezra…” Kanan said, warningly. He moved a little closer and leaned against the wall.

“Very well,” Noisi agreed, with what sounded suspiciously like a sigh.

It wasn’t comfortable, actually. The bed itself was hard, and Noisi was right, the chair would have been much better. He stayed right where he was. “So, why do I need to be here?”

“The primary function of this meeting is to arrange a schedule of appointments in order to allow me to monitor your condition. This could have been achieved the previous night, had you not chosen to leave before I had completed this task.”

“Hey,” Kanan cut in. “I think he’d been through more than enough last night, don’t you?”

Ezra lifted his feet onto the bed and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“It is my understanding that the patient was already aware of his condition; I did little more than confirm the diagnosis. I had no way of anticipating the amount of distress that confirmation would cause. Which reminds me…” 

The droid moved across the room, opened a drawer and returned quickly, holding an object in his hands. He passed it to Ezra, who accepted it before he even registered what it was. It was soft, furry, and pleasantly squishy. He looked at the object in his hands. “Is this a loth-cat?”

“A synthetic tooka, of which yes, the loth-cat is one variety. There is a high percentage chance that given your emotional response on our previous meeting, you would require additional comfort. Please feel free to embrace it.”

Ezra stared at the droid. “I’m not a child,” he said. He started to hand the toy back, then stopped, finding to his embarrassment that he didn’t want to let it go.

“Technically incorrect, assuming the data we hold for you to be accurate; however, my programming suggests that most species of any age often prefer to engage in a displacement activity of some description when dealing with an uncomfortable situation. If you prefer, I could offer you a sheet of paper to rip into squares, or some thin sticks which can be snapped into fragments.”

Ezra’s fingers stroked the soft fur of the toy, and he shifted his position so that he could hug that instead of his own knees. He glanced at Kanan, a little embarrassed, but Kanan appeared either not to have noticed or not to care. “No, this’ll do,” Ezra said, and squeezed it a little tighter.

“Very well. Now, as I recall, you chose to terminate your appointment just as we were about to discuss the likely timeline for the syndrome. Are you prepared to have this discussion now?”

He wasn’t. He felt himself hugging the soft toy a little tighter as a vague sense of panic started to rise within him. He took a deep breath. Unbidden, from his position leaning against the wall, Kanan strode across the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “Okay,” Ezra whispered. Kanan touched his back supportively and Ezra released the breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“The early onset variety of Sacul Syndrome is relatively rare, and differs from the standard variety in a number of ways. To be considered early onset, symptoms begin to appear anywhere between twelve and thirty years of age, however most commonly in the mid-teens.

“With the standard variety, vision declines over the course of twenty to thirty years, but in the vast majority of early onset cases, this timescale is reduced to a maximum of five years.”

“Wait,” Kanan interrupted. “The majority? So not always.”

Ezra felt his breath catch again, and he stared searchingly at the droid. Could there be a chance… He tried not to allow himself to hope, but if he had longer than he had believed...

“Given the degeneration already observed, as well as the patient’s description of the time of the onset of noticeable symptoms, I have no reason to believe that this case will be anything other than standard.”

“Figures,” Ezra muttered. He refused to allow himself to be disappointed. He had known what to expect already. It just would have been better if the droid had left that part out. But that was fine. Completely and totally fine.

Kanan shook his head. “Listen,” he said, addressing the droid. “I know you find this interesting…”

“On the contrary, ‘fascinating’ would be a much better descriptor. The opportunity to study this syndrome, and perhaps add to the collective understanding of it… Did you know that the cause of the early onset of symptoms is currently unknown? Perhaps a detailed lifestyle interview could assist in the discovery of that answer.”

“And that would be great,” Kanan said, in a voice that sounded calm on the surface. His emotions, communicated through the Force, were anything but. “Another time. Right now, how about we stick to the facts that are relevant to Ezra rather than worrying about things that aren’t?”

Ezra stroked his loth-cat. Not loth-cat. But it looked almost the same, and it reminded him of home.

Noisi gave an exasperated sigh, and somewhere at the back of his mind, Ezra pondered the reasoning behind whatever engineer had thought _that_ would be a good thing for a medical professional to do. “Very well. As timescales vary, it is not possible to predict with any degree of accuracy the exact course the syndrome will take at this time; however, with further monitoring I will be able to provide this information. For now, the patient…”

“Ezra,” Kanan supplied quietly.

“Yes, that is the name of the patient. He can likely expect to have little to no usable vision in anywhere between two and three years. Following this, further degeneration will result in a total lack of light perception within a further six to eighteen months.”

Ezra realized that he was tightly squeezing and twisting the fur of his loth-cat, and made a conscious effort to stop. He smoothed the fur with trembling fingers. “I need to go,” he said, and made a move to hop off of the bed.

Kanan’s hand clamped down firmly on his shoulder, stopping him momentarily. He considered ducking down instead, sliding off the bed and fleeing, but reconsidered. If he left now, he would only have to come back again. If he could make himself stay, he would be justified in his refusal to return; it wasn’t like knowing exactly how long it was going to drag on for would benefit him in any way. From what he could tell, Noisi just wanted him there so that he could study him.

“Is there anything that can be done?” Kanan asked.

The droid hesitated. “Sacul Syndrome affects the vision in two ways. The condition truly is fascinating! The degeneration takes place simultaneously in both the retina and the optic nerve, though slower in the latter. That means that a cybernetic implant would work in the short term, but given the recovery time, as well as the time that it would take to become accustomed to the altered input from an implant…”

“Get to the point,” Kanan told him through gritted teeth, “please.”

“By the time the… Ezra… had adjusted to the cybernetics, the condition would have begun to affect the optic nerve, rendering them useless. I am sorry.”

Ezra nodded. He had known as much, though he hadn’t understood the reasons. The loth-cat sat cradled in his lap, his hand resting on its head.

“If you stop to consider it, the condition is really quite elegant, it could barely be more effective if it had been designed!”

Effective. Great. Well, at least someone was happy.

“So what’s the next step?” Kanan asked.

“Accommodation, adaptation. Rehabilitation.”

Learning how to be b… Like Kanan.

“As you are no doubt aware, I am not an expert in such matters, and under normal circumstances, the patient would have been referred to another professional for such things. However, circumstances are not normal. I have various texts which I can provide, which may be of use. In addition, I may be able to make suggestions based on my own knowledge. Outside of that, I believe that you may be the closest thing we have to an expert in that regard, Kanan Jarrus. Perhaps you would accept a referral?”

Ezra could tell, even underneath the mask, that Kanan was frowning. Slowly, he released the pressure on Ezra’s shoulder. Ezra decided to take that as permission to leave. He slid forward until his feet landed on the ground.

“When does he need to come back?” Kanan asked.

“I would suggest weekly for now, perhaps growing more infrequent over time. Please remain where you are while I retrieve the necessary texts.”

Noisi wheeled over to the other side of the room and picked a large textbook and a datapad from the shelf. He handed them to Ezra. Ezra balanced them in one hand and attempted to hand the loth-cat back to the droid.

“That is yours to keep,” the droid said.

Ezra glanced down at the toy, then up again at the droid, not sure what to do. He didn’t really want to be seen walking through the base with a stuffed toy under his arm. But, on the other hand, he did want to keep it. Finally, he pressed it to his chest and obscured it from view with the large book. He folded his arms over the book, hiding the title, and made for the door.

Behind him, he heard Kanan exchange a few words with Noisi, before he followed him outside.

“So,” Ezra said. “Never again?”

Kanan hesitated. “I know he takes some getting used to, but I think it would be helpful to go back.”

He hugged the book, and the loth-cat, tighter to his chest. “So he can start a countdown? Maybe talk about how ‘fascinating’ and ‘effective’ it is some more? No thanks. He basically said he’s not going to be any use and asked you to take over, that says just about everything.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Kanan said.

Ezra nodded. He had a feeling he was going to win that argument, Kanan didn’t appear to see any real merit in returning either.

“He’s not all bad; he did give you a tooka,” Kanan added.

Ezra sighed. As consolation prizes went, he could think of better. “That’d be great if I was five,” he said.

Kanan shook his head. “Don’t pretend you weren’t happy that you got to keep it.” He hesitated. “I still have mine too,” he added. “But Hera borrows him from time to time. Maybe don’t mention to her that I told you that, though.”

Ezra stared, trying to work out whether or not that was a joke. It had to be, right? His mind couldn’t quite connect the points to make it make sense, one way or another. He hugged the book, and the loth-cat, a little tighter still. “I’m just going to go,” he said. “Unless you want… anything.”

“No,” Kanan told him. He found Ezra’s shoulder with his hand once again. “I think I can give you a few days to…” He sighed. “Tomorrow,” he decided. “You don’t want to get into the habit of not doing it, or it’ll be tough to start again. And we need to talk about… but we’ll do that tomorrow as well.”

Ezra nodded, thankful that Kanan hadn’t insisted on doing anything there and then. He just felt… not tired as such, more like drained. Of energy, of enthusiasm, of anything. All he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe not even that. Just to sit, to grieve.

“Here.” He shoved the books into Kanan’s arms and kept the loth-cat for himself. “Do something with these, I don’t want them. I’m going to…” He pointed vaguely away from the main buildings, in the direction of his hiding spot, not sure whether Kanan was able to pick up on the gesture or not.

Well, he would start to find out that kind of thing soon enough.

He turned took off at a quick walk, the loth-cat partially concealed in his folded arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is that last chapter of this story, but it's not the last story in the series. We've got a lot more planned for this AU, so look out for more soon!
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who read, kudos'd and commented, I hope you all enjoyed this last chapter, and I promise there won't be too long to wait until the next story!

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed, and many ideas and concepts suggested by my partner in crime, [Pom_Rania](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pom_Rania/pseuds/Pom_Rania).


End file.
